


Afterglow

by cafemints



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Smut, Past Relationship(s), Post-Break Up, Romantic Fluff, Smut, ateez would be the type of friends you would want to have, hopefully this is enough aha, mentions of alcohol use, obviously i still dont know how to tag, seongjoong are inlove, some parts are unbetad btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22954435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cafemints/pseuds/cafemints
Summary: Even after the sun has set,There go the colors of the afterglow;Still able to fill in a world of monochrome.As Seonghwa moves from New York and back to Seoul, a very special friend insists to spend 24 hours with him and Seonghwa cannot bring himself to say no.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 43
Kudos: 206





	Afterglow

It’s 22:47 and Hongjoong sees a bottle of beer in his hand, while the other hand covers his face harshly, almost squeezing his eyes out, looking for a way for the tears to come out, for the misery to pour out.

Hongjoong thinks of himself as the bottles seated before him on the counter – empty, impatiently yet patiently waiting, badly wanting to be refilled, but in spite of the longing and the misery, they remain silent until they are clinked, dropped, or worse, shattered into pieces. And he thinks all of those happen at once. Now, he finds himself whining and crying no tears as he sits uncomfortably on one of the stools in an underground bar in Seoul.

He does not understand why. He can never do. Why, of all people he had during high school, can he never accept everything that happened between him and someone he knew, someone he laughed and cried with, he held hands with, he ran away with, someone he kissed, he made love with, and someone he loved the most?

Hongjoong knows the answers, of course. He knows he was the best and he knows many reasons why. But he can never understand why do they have to be the same reasons to why he became the bottles seated before him on the counter – empty, waiting even after four years, wanting and longing for the same person again and again, clinked, dropped, and shattered into pieces. Why does it have to be his once happiness to be the reason for his now misery?

Why did it all have to end just because it was not working out anymore?

Hongjoong has many questions to ask. He knows the kind friend next to him does not have the answers he has been looking for in the last four years, nor the words he needed to hear since the first minute he broke down, but still, he throws him questions after questions, only for them to go afar.

“He didn’t even tell me he came back already,” Hongjoong whines to the soft skin of his arm. “Why?” he continues. He grips tightly on the neck of the bottle and harshly runs his fingers through his blonde hair. He is too desperate to cry at the time, but nothing ever comes out except for his own words hanging on the long string of misery. And Hongjoong thinks that is quite helpful still.

He has been silent about it since the night he had talked to him – no, the morning after that, actually, because he had spent the night crying. But, in the morning, he had gone to university with a pretentious smile on his face and Hongjoong had kept that until tonight.

When his friends asked him, “You were so happy with each other. What happened?”

He would keep it short and say, “It’s getting harder to work it out now that he is far.”

A question would follow and Hongjoong was thankful that it was cliché enough to be answerable. They had asked, “Are you okay?”

Hongjoong had smiled and had given the typical answer: “Yeah.”

And it had always been like that. It had always been a “Yeah” after an “Are you okay.” But Hongjoong has chosen a different path tonight. He has fallen silent when the kind Mingi shared, “Oh, and did you know? Seonghwa has already graduated months ago and he’s now back to Seoul. We’ve met with him last week.”

Hongjoong stayed quiet and fell blank. He looked to Mingi as if he was staring into nothingness. He was always silent about it, but this was a different silence and Mingi began to regret opening up about it.

Yet, Hongjoong tried again. After a few more moments of silence, he smiled, that famous pretentious smile that every friend of his saw. Mingi was supposed to feel relieved after seeing him smile, however, he started to feel something else and he knew it was regret.

Mingi regretted that he had always believed that smile, that he had always thought Hongjoong was always happy, was totally fine about it, was already over everything. He regretted that he did not become a sincere friend to him for four years.

“How could I know, Mingi? He never told me.” Hongjoong kept the smile on his face.

“We never talked again.” And he just kept on smiling until his face ached.

“How could I know?” Hongjoong repeated.

So, all Mingi could do tonight was to sit there, listen, and be a kind friend.

“Why couldn’t he simply tell me he’s back already? Does he hate me that much? Does he not want to try again?” Hongjoong throws questions after questions, desperate for reasons, for answers, for any word. “Why, Mingi?” He places his hand on the counter and tilts his head to the side, finally looking at the worried Mingi.

When Mingi thinks this is a cue for him to speak, he clears his throat and tries his best to explain in any way he could, but never in a way that can pain Hongjoong. “You know Seonghwa, hyung. He’s always so caring. He was anxious and worried that it might not turn out well if he called you. So, he thought it was better not to tell you,” he says and breathes when he is done.

Hongjoong smiles again, but this is different. He smiles in a way that truly shows that he is deeply scarred. It all adds up when tears finally pour out of his eyes and roll down on his reddish cheeks. He does not bother to wipe them away, nor hide it from his friend. He simply sits there, looks to Mingi, and cries, “Why does he always talk of the uncertain and let it pull him away?”

Mingi smiles sadly, too. He reaches out a hand to his friend and rubs circles on his shoulder.

“I miss him,” Hongjoong cries louder. He buries his face into his hands as tears continuously roll out of his eyes like a pattern. “I miss Seonghwa.”

“I’m sorry,” is all Mingi could say.

“I miss him every day.”

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Mingi repeats, looking for anything he can say that maybe can help the older feel even the tiniest bit of better.

“I miss Hwa,” Hongjoong continues.

And as if the dim lights of the bar have gone brighter, Mingi’s face does, too, when a memory hits his head. “If it makes you feel better, I remember hyung talked about you when we met,” Mingi begins, excited and hopeful, but at the same time, anxious as well.

Hongjoong suddenly stops from sobbing and hurriedly wipes his tears away, like a child who has been given his favorite candy. He looks back to Mingi with hopeful eyes. When Mingi sees these, he shifts in his seat and says, “He just asked how you have been, like out of nowhere.”

“And what did you tell him?” Hongjoong asks with wide, excited eyes.

“I told him you’ve been okay, since I thought you really were,” Mingi replies slowly, fearing that he might have said the wrong response.

Hongjoong nods. “And then?”

And then? Mingi takes his time to remember. He remembers himself sitting in one of the rooms while they were in Gwangalli beach in Busan. This was where Seonghwa had decided to hang out with the friends he had in high school. He remembers Seonghwa was sitting on the bed behind him that time, staring blankly on the floor. When Yeosang, their other friend, had finally left the room, Seonghwa finally spoke up.

“Mingi,” Seonghwa called.

This halted Mingi from drying his hair with the towel and made him turn his head over the shoulder to look at Seonghwa, who seemed to be in a trance.

“You’re close to Hongjoong, right?” Seonghwa asked.

Mingi remembers he had a teasing smile on his face that time as he replied, “Yeah. Why?”

“How has Hongjoong been?” Seonghwa questioned, his face still seeming blank. He looked serious, so Mingi put off his smile as he thought it was not a good time to joke around.

“He has been doing okay,” Mingi remembers saying, “and I hope he keeps on doing okay.”

Then, Mingi heard a soft chuckle from behind and he knew it came from no one else, but Seonghwa himself. He turned around to face the other and it was a surprise to him that the boy finally had a smile on his face. “Good,” Seonghwa said.

“…and then that was what he said,” Mingi says before he drinks from his glass of beer.

“Good?” Hongjoong asks, looking unbelievably to Mingi as if he is still looking for more. “Just… good? That’s all?”

Mingi slowly shrugs and raises his brows, fearing that this is not turning out well unlike what he has expected. “Yeah?” He gradually says.

Hongjoong groans and rolls his eyes. He pulls out his phone from his pocket, confusing Mingi until Hongjoong himself says the words: “Fuck it. I’m gonna call him.”

“Hyung! What the fuck!” Mingi yelps, reaching out to Hongjoong to snatch his phone, but the younger has already laid his head on the other stool behind him, keeping his phone out of Mingi’s reach. “I don’t think that’s a good-“

The said hyung gasps as he sits straight back up, cutting the other mid-sentence. “Too late! He’s here!” He yelps in a high-pitched, enthusiastic tone.

“Hi, Hwa,” Hongjoong starts with a soft and sweet tone, one that is familiar to the person on the other line. Maybe it’s the buzz, or maybe it’s because of Park Seonghwa, but Hongjoong has a huge smile on his face while his eyes are softly and sleepily fluttering like wings. Maybe it’s the dim lights or it’s because of Park Seonghwa, but Hongjoong seemingly begins to glow.

“ _What- Who- I mean_ ,” Seonghwa breathes heavily. “ _Kim Hongjoong_.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s because of Park Seonghwa, saying his name like a song that speaks of a beautiful pain, but tears begin to flow on Hongjoong’s face again and he is sad and happy at the same time.

“So,” Hongjoong starts again, but now with a sob, “I’ve heard you’re back.”

Hongjoong can hear Seonghwa clearing his throat. Everything seems too vividly real for him. Mingi sits patiently in front of him with an understanding smile painted across his face. The bar is full of music and laughter. The empty bottles of beer in line on the counter suddenly look beautiful under the dim lights that seem like artificial stars. And Park Seonghwa is on the other line of the call and Hongjoong can hear it all. He wants to be closer, like creating an imaginative space just for him and Seonghwa, who would sit next to him while hugging his knees to his chest. So, Hongjoong closes his eyes.

“ _I am,_ ” Seonghwa says. “ _I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away._ ”

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong quickly replies.

And suddenly, it’s all okay because it’s Seonghwa.

“ _It’s 23:02. Why did you call?_ ” Seonghwa asks, confusion clear in his tone. Hongjoong hears shifting from the other line and he assumes the boy is already on his bed. He giggles at the thought.

He misses the time when he had woken up in a motel, with a Seonghwa in his striped polo lying next to him. He misses Seonghwa’s face and how his eyes were shut, lashes kissing the top of his cheeks. His lips were pink and slightly chapped, but Hongjoong remembers kissing them still. His hair was blonde and was unkempt, striking all over the place, so he ran his fingers through the strands, playing with them until the older had woken up.

Hongjoong laughs, still in his trance of memories. “I’m drunk, Hwa. Come, pick me up,” he orders thoughtlessly.

“ _You’re what?_ ” There is, once again, a shifting from the other line, but this time, it seemed rushed, as if he, all of a sudden, sits straight back up, exactly the same way Hongjoong did when he found out the other picked up. “ _Why are you drunk? It’s nearly midnight and you’re still outside and-_ “ Seonghwa stops himself with a heavy sigh. “ _Just come home, Joong._ ”

“Pick me up.”

Hongjoong hears Seonghwa sigh again. Few more seconds of silence follow, of Hongjoong waiting, and of Seonghwa pondering anxiously.

“It’s okay, Hwa. I’m okay,” Hongjoong reassures because he knows Seonghwa is doing it again – thinking of the uncertain and letting it pull him away.

Silence follows again and Hongjoong is already on the verge of hoping. He is starting to think about himself negatively. Insecurities and anxiety run through his head, breaking the space he shares with Seonghwa. He places his hand on his forehead to ease the ache. His thumb begins to shake, deciding whether to end the call already or to keep on waiting, until he hears the sounds of car keys and footsteps from the other line before Seonghwa speaks again.

“ _Where are you?_ ”

“Berlin,” Hongjoong answers shakily.

“ _10 minutes._ ”

✧ 

It’s 23:26 and Hongjoong finds himself in disbelief.

He’s sitting on the front passenger seat of the car with his head against the window, the streetlights and car lights blurring his sight, and there’s a faint music playing from the radio. When reality finally hits him like a truck, he recognizes the street from outside – the familiar trees in line like a pattern, the infrastructures, the stores, and everything Hongjoong knows so well by heart, because this is on his way home.

Hongjoong turns his head to the other side and he sees Seonghwa with his hand on the steering wheel and the other balled into a fist, propping up his head while his elbow is rested against the window. Hongjoong notices Seonghwa is in his black muscle tee, revealing his biceps (that Hongjoong wishes he could stop thinking about), and partnered with black ripped jeans. He can tell he has just woken up, based on the puffiness of his face, glowing amidst the dark, and based on how his eyes flutter sleepily, staying shut a little longer than having them open.

Hongjoong scoffs because he can’t believe what is before his eyes. This, though, has rung Seonghwa like a bell that his company for the night is finally aware.

“Is it my turn now to take you home drunk, when before, it was the other way around?” the older asks jokingly. Hongjoong can only laugh, still thinking he is in his own daydream. “Why did you even need me to take you home? You were with Mingi,” he adds, seemingly unamused of Hongjoong’s silence.

“Why did you come, then?” Hongjoong questions, a teasing smirk playing on his face. His hand reaches out to Seonghwa, his index finger eager to poke the other’s puffy cheek.

“I thought you were alone,” Seonghwa replies, short and simple. Silently groaning, he grabs a hold of Hongjoong’s finger and places it back on his seat.

“Still. Why did you come?” Hongjoong repeats, eager to get the answer he wants to hear.

Seonghwa huffs heavily and scratches the top of his head. “Why did you have to call, then?”

It is Hongjoong’s turn now to let out a groan. He buries his face into his hands in frustration, disappointed as well that he’s never getting what he wants. His head is throbbing and his stomach is starting to ache. And it does not help when he’s feeling light-headed, feeling like he is going to throw up in any minute. And Seonghwa being stubborn is never helping as well. So, he decides whether to shut up and stay or to get out of the car and regret everything that happened for the night.

When Hongjoong feels himself nearly choking for air, he orders, “Stop the car.”

Seonghwa seems surprised at this, swiftly driving the car to the side and then halting it. Hongjoong unlocks the door open and steps out. He says, “Just go,” before he hurries to the trees.

Seonghwa is stubborn. So, of course, he doesn’t go anywhere even though Hongjoong has told him so. He simply watches Hongjoong through the window, who drops his hands to his knees and throws up all he has consumed, coughing for some time, and wiping the tears from his eyes. Seonghwa sighs exasperatedly and takes the bottled water from its compartment before he, too, steps out of his car and heads towards Hongjoong.

At first, Seonghwa is afraid to touch, nor to do anything. He only stands by Hongjoong’s side and waits for him to finish. But when the younger is taking too long, he begins to worry. He then dismisses all his hesitations and finally places his hand on Hongjoong’s back, rubbing slow circles for comfort.

Eventually, Hongjoong wipes his mouth and drops to his feet, feeling weak. He covers his face with his hands, embarrassed for Seonghwa has seen everything. But it seems the latter does not mind. He even hands him a bottled water, gesturing him to wash and to drink, to which the younger complies. Hongjoong stands up and takes the bottle from his hand.

“How much did you drink?” Seonghwa asks as he watches Hongjoong spit out the water to the grass.

Hongjoong sits on his feet again, feeling too weak and too dizzy to stand up. He has his elbows rested on his knees and his head on his arms. He has his eyes shut, but he always tries to keep them open, fearing that Seonghwa might be gone. “I don’t know, but it’s more than three.”

Seonghwa can only sigh. He does not know what to do with the boy, but he does not take it as a cue to give up. Instead, he looks around and finds a place to eat. When his eyes fall on the convenience store from quite far away, with a “24/7 OPEN” sign hanging at the top, he does not waste his time.

“Up,” he orders, offering a hand to Hongjoong, who smiles before he takes his hand. Seonghwa pulls him up and guides him back to his car. “Let’s eat.”

✧ 

It’s 23:47 and Hongjoong thanks the hot ramen and coffee before him and the (hot) Seonghwa sitting from across the table, because with them, the night has not been as cold as it usually is.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Hongjoong comments before shoving noodles into his mouth, loudly slurping on them.

Seonghwa chuckles and looks away. And Hongjoong does not find this so amusing, so he rolls his eyes and calls him out. “Can you just talk to me?”

This has taken Seonghwa by surprise. He looks back to him with wide eyes.

“Do you hate me?” Hongjoong asks.

Seonghwa shakes his head, brows furrowed. “What makes you think so?”

“Everything.” Hongjoong pouts and crosses his arms across his chest. “I wouldn’t even know you’re back if it wasn’t for Mingi.”

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa sighs, because he is sorry for more than that.

Hongjoong brings his cup of coffee back on the table after taking a sip from it. “How’s New York?” He starts, even though he does not really want to talk about New York, the root cause of everything – of Seonghwa leaving, of things not working out, and of Hongjoong’s misery. But he assumes it would not be so bad to talk about with Seonghwa. He’s been gone for so long and Hongjoong just wants to spend a little longer time with him, to know how he has been. And if it were possible, Hongjoong wants to know how Seonghwa has been every minute for four years. Hongjoong just wants him to stay a little longer.

Seonghwa shrugs. “It’s okay, I guess. My university, specifically, provides better education than here. And with its name on my resume, I think I’d get bigger opportunities.”

“Was it stressful?” Hongjoong asks, squinting his eyes.

“Yeah, it has to be. I mean, I had to maintain my average and the other professors weren’t even cooperating. Luckily, I graduated.”

This must be the first time, Hongjoong thinks, that he sees Seonghwa has a smile on his face for the night. Even though it is not so wide and bright, it is enough for Hongjoong to know that Seonghwa has been really happy while he has been not.

Hongjoong wonders whether Seonghwa has had it hard the same way he did after they had talked that night. When Seonghwa had explained his distressing situation through the video call, had asked if he could leave for a while, and all Hongjoong could do was to end the call and cry on his bed because he already knew it was ending, Hongjoong wonders if Seonghwa did, too.

When Hongjoong had always kept his pretentious smile every time he went to university, only to go home early whenever his heart began to ache, began to long again for its warmth and embrace, Hongjoong wonders if Seonghwa did, too.

When Hongjoong had decided to patiently wait until Seonghwa is back, he wonders if Seonghwa is waiting, too.

And when Hongjoong knows to himself very well that how he sees and how he feels for Seonghwa has never changed ever since six years ago, Hongjoong wonders if it is still the same for Seonghwa, too.

But Seonghwa has a small smile on his face with the thought of New York in his head and Hongjoong thinks Seonghwa didn’t as he did and that it’s not the same as it is for him.

So, he laughs a little and smiles at Seonghwa, just at him, with only the thought of him. He wonders if they could ever be together again. Despite how obvious it is for Hongjoong that Seonghwa is already happy as he is, he just doesn’t want to stop. He wants to be happy, too, be full, too, and have a sincere smile on his face, too, with something else in his head. And he wants Seonghwa to be happy with the thought of Hongjoong in his. He wonders if it could be like that again.

He looks around the place and searches for a sign that could give him the answers he wants. When all he sees is pitch black sky with no stars, Hongjoong still says with voice full of hope: “Do you want to spend one more and one last time with me?”

Seonghwa widens his eyes in shock, raising his brows in the process. He points to himself and to Hongjoong with his fingers alternatively. “Aren’t we spending time right now?”

“No. I mean, like, as us, together, for one last time. One last day.”

This has taken the other aback, who suddenly straightens his back and lets out a breath. “Hongjoong, you’re drunk,” is all Seonghwa can say and Hongjoong can’t deny that. In fact, he doesn’t know whether it’s the alcohol or it’s the persistent hope that is urging him to do this. But whatever it could be, he knows to himself that he really wants to do this.

“I know, but I know what I’m saying. Just one last day. Call it a bonus day, or however people claim it,” Hongjoong says, almost begging, desperation glimmering in the darkness of his eyes.

Seonghwa clicks on his phone and checks the time. It’s 23:57. He looks back to Hongjoong and back to his phone.

“I know this is so insane and so stupid, but I promise – after this, we can return to how it has been,” Hongjoong adds, still pleading.

It’s 23:58 and Seonghwa begins to think that it would not hurt to try, to be with Hongjoong again, like how it used to be four years ago. So, he says, “Just until sunrise.”

“Make it sunset?” Hongjoong pleads, head tilted to the side and eyes round like of a puppy.

Seonghwa sighs. “Lunch?”

Hongjoong smirks. “24 hours?” Seonghwa parts his mouth in disbelief, blinking when he does. Hongjoong chuckles, “The more you try to shorten it, the more I will make the time longer. Believe me, I can do this all day.”

“I know,” Seonghwa huffs before he clicks on his phone again, checking how long will 24 hours be, even though it’s unnecessary. He believes things have changed ever since and things would be hard to go back to normal. He knows how long 24 hours will be and he knows _these_ 24 hours will be longer, painstakingly longer hours of trying hard again and again. But with the assurance of time, that it will continuously run anyway, he reassures himself that it would not hurt to try.

Once again, he repeats to himself: _it would not hurt to try._

“Fine. 24 hours,” Seonghwa finally agrees, causing the younger to yelp.

It’s 00:00 and so, they begin again.

✧ 

The first few hours were unsurprisingly awkward. After Seonghwa agrees, the cold midnight air brings silence, trial and errors on feeling each other through thinking, and slurping sounds as Seonghwa sips from his juice box. He looks to Hongjoong from time to time while the other keeps his gaze away, shocked and worried that the other has agreed to his stupid plan.

Hongjoong has not really thought it through if he were to be honest. It is out of impulse and maybe a tiny bit of desperation. He really wants this, yet he feels sorry doing this either. In fact, he was on a debate while persuading Seonghwa, but in the end, he let the other side win. And now, he regrets it a little. 

He thinks maybe he should have had full control over himself and maybe he should have thought about it well first. He should have presumed on what is to come after 24 hours – of course, Hongjoong would be in another pain. He would know he had let himself be fed with lies yet he still did it anyways. While he would struggle to leave, Seonghwa would find it easy to do the same thing at 00:00. And Hongjoong would be pained again. It’s a cycle he has not thought through.

“If you really don’t want to do it, it’s okay,” Hongjoong says almost silently.

Seonghwa scoffs. “Now that it has started, you’re saying that?” he questions obnoxiously. “Don’t start what you can’t finish, Hongjoong.”

That. That surprises Hongjoong the most.

He knows Seonghwa is serious and he knows he should not be thinking about it at this time. At first, he thinks Seonghwa probably does not remember anymore, but when he looks to the latter and sees a strange visage – wide eyes and slightly parted mouth, Hongjoong can confirm the other is surprised as well.

Seonghwa knows he should have not said that and again, Hongjoong knows he should not be thinking about all the things he has done only to get what he wants. But as silence fills the air once more and all Hongjoong can hear are the same words repeating like a bell in his head again and again, he can’t help but remember them all.

Hongjoong remembers sitting on Seonghwa’s lap, and maybe dancing a little on them. He remembers hugging him from the back only to leave kisses on the crook of his neck. He remembers playing with Seonghwa’s hair and he remembers tugging on them later on. Hongjoong remembers doing all the simple things to Seonghwa only to leave him wanting more and giving him more later on.

The thoughts finally come to a halt when Seonghwa has said in a stutter: “I-I meant that you have never changed at all. You still can’t be consistent with your own decisions, even though you want it so bad anyway.”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong says softly, “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

The thoughts have come to a halt for him, but he thinks it’s not the same for the other.

“Now that we’re together again – well – temporarily,” Seonghwa starts slowly, unfortunately putting enough emphasis on the last word, “we can do that again, right?”

Hongjoong looks to Seonghwa suspiciously, wondering whether they are thinking of the same “that.”

“What?” Hongjoong asks.

“That-“ Seonghwa cuts himself off by clearing his throat and shaking his head. “You know what, never mind.”

Hongjoong laughs awkwardly, covering his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “Hwa, you don’t have to be so awkward.”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes, hiding the fact that he is embarrassed, because for all the years he had been together with Hongjoong, he had never been this awkward. He had always known what he would do around the younger. But Seonghwa should not be surprised anymore. He thinks maybe the four years without Hongjoong have somewhat loosened the thread they have always had tied around their fingers.

“Just tell me what I should do and should not,” Seonghwa orders, tapping his fingers on the table to emphasize.

“This isn't an earthquake drill. Just think of it as a normal day back in 2015,” Hongjoong advices, or maybe, challenges. He wants to know if Seonghwa remembers at all. He looks at him fiercely, waiting for anything to come out of the older’s lips.

Seonghwa simply sits from across the table with a hand wrapped around a juice box. He has his mouth slightly parted and his eyes slowly blinking in a slow rhythm as he thinks hardly. He goes back to four years ago and all he sees is Hongjoong, with red hair and in an olive green shirt. The TV was turned on, but Seonghwa’s eyes were on their intertwined hands.

Slouching his back, Hongjoong sighs, the sound putting Seonghwa’s memory on pause. “Of course, you don’t remember.”

“I’m sorry.” Seonghwa smiles apologetically and lies, “I really can’t.”

Time passes by along the stories they share with each other. Hongjoong is pleased to know at least a gist of how Seonghwa has been in New York. He laughed when Seonghwa told him about how he tried to smoke a joint and the events that unfolded after that. He sobbed when he found out he had taken care of the cat that always visited his apartment at night. And it has gone the same for Seonghwa as well, who continuously listened as Hongjoong shared his own stories. The drunken nights and crying were diminished from the context, of course. Hongjoong would not want him to know.

It’s 03:48 when they decide they should head back to the car, both of them surprised that they have survived the first three hours of the night. Hongjoong can say it has gone well, in spite of the awkward silence returning every now and then as they think of more things to say.

They sit in the car in silence. Seonghwa’s fingers tap on the wheel, even though he has not started the vehicle yet. Hongjoong quietly sits and tries to keep his breathing silent.

The city outside tells them it’s already midnight. Fewest number of cars pass by the parking lot of the convenience store in a rush. The only lights alive are from the streetlights hovering over the road. The rest of the buildings are left in the dark. It seems ghosted, yet peaceful like a lullaby. Seonghwa would want to sleep in this atmosphere, only if Hongjoong were not by his side.

He sighs, tired, as he finally starts the engine. “Any plans on where we are going at nearly 4 o’clock?” Seonghwa teases, a little baffled. He knows, of course, Hongjoong does not have plans because he knows he has, once again, done a decision he did not think through well.

Hongjoong hums, thinking. Then, as if his face lights up, he asks, “Do you want to rest first?”

“You would not want me to rest if you only have 24 hours,” Seonghwa scoffs. The engine is already rumbling, but they have not moved even a bit yet.

Hongjoong pouts as he feels a little pressured. He looks at the city around them in hopes they would give him suggestions. Surely, the darkness wouldn’t say anything to him. So, he looks over the time ticking just above the radio. And his face lights up again.

“We can just go somewhere with a nice view of the sunrise.” He smiles at Seonghwa, who hums for a while, thinking. In the end, he nods, agreeing.

Seonghwa chuckles as he starts to drive the car away from the lot. “You always love sunrises,” he murmurs.

Hongjoong looks over to him in a snap, curious. “What?”

But Seonghwa only shakes his head and smiles. “Let’s go?”

Although confused, Hongjoong still nods, gesturing him to go, and eventually, he lets the thought go.

Seonghwa remembers Hongjoong loves sunrises. He remembers he would always wake up early in the morning just to catch the view of the sun, peeking through the horizon until it reigns above the earth. Seonghwa, though, would always fail to see this with him, even though he has promised him they would watch it together. They never had done it because he would always choose sleep over everything else and because, in his defense – “There’s always sunset after that, a time when we are both awake,” he had said.

He remembers Hongjoong had countered him with: “It’s different.”

Seonghwa never got it that time. He always thought they were pretty similar. The same hues of pinks, blues, oranges, and yellows were there every time. “The only difference was their direction,” he once said. “The rising sun going up, the setting sun going down.”

“That’s exactly the difference of sunrise from sunset,” Hongjoong started and Seonghwa remembers this was when he got it. “It is nice to see something to come than something to end.”

Seonghwa smiled that time as he thought how smart Hongjoong was and at how he could always find something to love.

And now, he sits in a moving car with Hongjoong by his side, who practically begged to spend his 24 hours with him despite how he left him and how much he had hurt him. Seonghwa could not smile at the thought that Hongjoong still found something to love within Seonghwa amidst the night in him.

“Hey, Hwa,” Hongjoong calls in the middle of the way. “Do you mind if I go home first?”

“Why?” The said Hwa almost silently whines.

Hongjoong raises his shirt to his chin with a distorted face of disgust. “I need to get changed. I smell like shit.”

Seonghwa laughs, giving the other a quick glance. “You’re telling me to drive minutes away from here just for you to change clothes? We’re already here though.”

As he says that, he stops the car. Hongjoong looks and sees the prominent river next to him. He smiles proudly because Seonghwa knows where to go.

“If you badly want to change your clothes, I still have clothes at the back,” Seonghwa adds momentarily.

Hongjoong, on the other hand, looks at him with grimace. When Seonghwa sees this, he defends himself and his image immediately. “For your information, they’re clean. And I’m just too lazy to unpack them.”

This doesn’t change the look on Hongjoong’s visage, though. With furrowed brows and parted mouth, he seems to question Seonghwa, who groans loudly and says, “Look, if you want to change, use my clothes. That’s the only option you have.”

Hongjoong finally stops and laughs instead. He crawls to the passenger seat at the back where a black duffel bag quietly sits. He unzips it open and to his surprise, the clothes are folded and organized neatly, perfumed with the scent of Seonghwa’s favorite fabric conditioner. Dismissing his own hesitations, his hands then dig into the bag and look something good for him to wear.

It’s 04:26 and Seonghwa notices Hongjoong is taking so long. “Just pick whatever,” he orders. To prevent his impatience from growing too big, he turns on the radio and lets the random music fill in the vehicle.

Hongjoong chuckles and gives up. He grabs the shirt he sees on top and pulls it over his head. He smiles at the familiar comfort of wearing Seonghwa’s shirt – sleeves that reach his lower arm and seams that reach his mid-thighs, the softness of the fabric, and the scent that defines Seonghwa himself – strong, but sweet. And just by wearing the gray shirt feels oddly nostalgic to Hongjoong.

Especially when a familiar song comes on the radio, it all feels nostalgic to him.

From the strumming of the guitar, then the sweet voice of the vocalist comes in, Hongjoong remembers a smile, so sweet and bright amidst the darkness of his room, yet so apologetically sad.

“Hwa,” Hongjoong calls, almost like a whisper, afraid that he would miss a note of the song.

From the rising of the melody, Hongjoong remembers having his arms on his shoulders and eventually wrapping them around his neck. Then, he could hear his voice, low yet sweet, saying: “I’m sorry I couldn’t dance with you there.”

“Seonghwa, remember this song?” Hongjoong asks, bending forward to look at the other. But Seonghwa has his eyes shut, his brows furrowed, and after a while, he shakes his head.

Then, the chorus comes, and all Hongjoong can do is sing along. “When you hear this song, come back to me.”

Hongjoong keeps his eyes fixed at Seonghwa in hopes he would remember.

Hongjoong hopes Seonghwa would remember the infamous prom party when Seonghwa was still a senior. Every boy had their arms around their own girl, while Hongjoong was left seated in one of the tables, waiting for someone, maybe waiting for Seonghwa.

He hoped Seonghwa would dance with him that time along the sweet yet sad music blasting through the speakers. But he only sat there and kept his gaze away from Hongjoong. He understood Seonghwa, though. Why would a boy dance with another boy in a school event? Hongjoong had thought that time. And he kept that thought to push his sadness away.

However, still, in the end, he still hoped they could dance within the crowd with no fear clouding above their heads.

Hongjoong hopes Seonghwa would remember when he came over at Hongjoong’s the same night. He was on the verge of tears as he sat on his bed. Seonghwa paced around the room as he scrolled through his phone. Then, the song came through the speakers, the same song from the party, the same song playing from the radio right now.

Seonghwa offered a hand to Hongjoong, to which the younger accepted with a sad smile. As the strumming of the guitar came, Hongjoong placed his hands on Seonghwa’s shoulders while the other placed his on Hongjoong’s tiny waist. Seonghwa smiled at him apologetically as he leaned his forehead against his.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t dance with you there,” Seonghwa mumbled in his low voice. He left a kiss on top of Hongjoong’s nose, again and again, until his tears would stop.

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong whispered. “When you hear this song, come back to me,” he sang along, humming to the parts he wished he knew the words.

Seonghwa smiled at him amusingly as their feet moved in sync across Hongjoong’s bedroom. The moon was up and it shone its light through the window, creating shadows as the couple danced through. It was dark, and the only things filling in the room were the music itself and Hongjoong singing along as he looked to nothing else but Seonghwa’s eyes.

And he also remembers Seonghwa singing along, too, with that sweet voice of his that he has learned to love more and more as days pass by. “When you hear this song, come, find me.”

“This is unfair. You know I love your voice,” he said that time as he hugged Seonghwa closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around his waist, and basking in his presence as he felt the older rest his chin on top of his head.

Hongjoong hopes Seonghwa can remember that night while he sings along, but all he gets is silence.

“This is unfair,” Hongjoong whispers, mostly to himself, as he has his gaze fixed on Seonghwa, whose eyes are relaxed and shut.

It’s 04:56 when Hongjoong finds himself lost in the past. Sadly, he can only keep it to himself because, he thinks, what’s the point of sharing a memory with someone who can’t remember them? So, he cries to himself silently as he sits at the back of the car. He wipes every bead of tears immediately and stifles every sob in fear that Seonghwa might hear.

Hongjoong only stops when he notices the sky ahead of them is slowly turning lighter. The hue of blue gradually and smoothly becomes a brighter value as it nears the horizon. At last, there is finally a glimmering light on the water. In a rush, Hongjoong wipes the last tears away and crawls back to the shotgun seat.

“Seonghwa!” He calls excitedly, his eyes on nothing but the dawning sun. “Hwa, it’s sunrise!” He shakes the other with his hand while the other points to the sky. But Seonghwa only groans and shifts in his position.

This catches his attention. The sun is finally peeking through, with bright pink and orange as its halo, when Hongjoong concludes Seonghwa might be sleeping. He bends a little forward to check on the other, whose head is leaning on the window, eyes still shut close, and mouth a little parted. He has his arms folded across his chest, maybe hugging himself, maybe keeping himself warm. And Hongjoong thinks Seonghwa looks so peaceful.

The sun is almost above the horizon when Hongjoong realizes this is all somewhat familiar to him. Again, after years, Hongjoong watches the sunrise alone. Although, a long time ago, he had watched it with Seonghwa sleeping next to him, yet he still watched it alone despite the promise.

Hongjoong is always thankful, though, that Seonghwa sleeps at a time like this since forever, because it would give him a chance to look at him admiringly. Before, when the sun was already resting atop the horizon, Hongjoong would stop and stare at Seonghwa, who was always in a vast oblivion.

And now that the sun is up in the middle of the cold, blue sky, again, after years, Hongjoong still watches how the saturated light softly falls on Seonghwa’s face. He still watches how he glows like honey under the warm touch of the sun and how his lips turn pinker when the light kisses them. And still, he admires him so much. And he does not think it is something of him that can change, like the sunrise that comes even after the sun sets; it is always there.

The sun now reigns the earth. The sky is a brighter shade of blue. Hongjoong immediately looks away when he notices Seonghwa’s eyes flutter open, probably disturbed by the sunlight harshly striking them. After a few more rub, reality hits Seonghwa, or rather a blinding light hits him.

“Fuck,” he cusses as he hurriedly looks at the ticking time above the radio.

It’s 05:10 when Seonghwa comes to know that he has missed the significant time for Hongjoong once again.

He throws his hands to his face as he groans loudly and frustratedly. “I’m sorry. Ohmygod.”

Although his words are muffled by his hands, Hongjoong still hears and understands them. With his head leaning on the window and eyes focused on the river, he replies, “It’s fine. We still have sunset later.”

“No, no. It’s different,” Seonghwa says, shaking his head.

To this, Hongjoong smiles. “It’s fine. Do you want to grab breakfast?”

Seonghwa sighs as his hands finally drop to his lap. He nods as he starts the car once again. “Alright. Where do you want to eat? My treat,” he insists and Hongjoong knows that is only because he feels sorry.

✧ 

It’s 5:30 when they arrive at the pancake house. Seonghwa does not require a consensus for him to drive to the place; he simply knows and remembers Hongjoong’s favorite breakfast. He just hopes it’s still the same.

As they sit in the booth, Seonghwa begins to have double thoughts. He can clearly remember the smile on Hongjoong’s face when he brought him pancakes to bed on early Saturday mornings. But, after four years, this morning has become different. Hongjoong has been quiet since the sunrise, even until the pancakes are served. He constantly looks away and lets the harsh light blind him instead. Seonghwa ponders, maybe Hongjoong has a new favorite breakfast, even though he knows to himself it is not just that.

“Don’t you like it?” Seonghwa starts, tilting his head to catch Hongjoong’s attention, which, as always, fixed on the sky.

“It’s fine,” Hongjoong replies nonchalantly.

“Do you want anything more?” Seonghwa starts again.

“No. It’s okay.”

Seonghwa huffs and gives up. He then decides to join the silent game, where whoever feels awkward first loses. And he has been losing the game since the beginning.

“Look, I’m sorry.”

With this, Hongjoong finally looks to Seonghwa, with furrowed brows and eyes narrowed (Seonghwa reckons maybe he’s now seeing spots from staring too much at the sun).

“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” Seonghwa adds.

Hongjoong silently chuckles as he shoves a piece of pancake to his mouth.

“Why?” Seonghwa asks curiously and worriedly with a gaze still on Hongjoong’s eyes, patiently waiting for them to look back to his. And when they do, he is stunned.

Hongjoong chuckles once more before he starts, “I just feel like you don’t really want to do this.”

Seonghwa only sighs and moves away, resting his back on the backrest.

“Why?” Hongjoong asks, dropping the fork from his hand.

Why? Because Seonghwa thought it’s stupid. He could never see the point of pretending they are still together in a given period of time only to leave the both of them hurt and still hoping.

When Seonghwa was in New York and the wound from the break-up still felt fresh, he slowly began to consider starting a new chapter of his life in the city. He wanted to escape out of the bubble – to live a life without Hongjoong. He knew to himself it would be a rough start. But he kept on going. And eventually, he thought things were nice. Freedom was the best part. And most of all, he finally thought he was okay.

But it was just New York. The city had become a bubble of comfort for him – a reassurance that he is away from pain, from the longing, from Kim Hongjoong. When he flew back to Seoul and hung out with his friends from high school, he realized it was just New York that drove him away from reality only to loop him back here.

Before he had fallen asleep in the car earlier, he was lost in his own thoughts (that sooner lulled him to sleep). He pondered why these had to happen after the four years he had wasted in New York for trying to heal himself, only to be back here and start a new regret. He might have fooled himself for thinking it would not hurt to try because certainly, it would.

In the end, Seonghwa was really not okay. New York was just drugs that lifted him high and made him forget. After all, he still couldn’t let go, still hurt like Hongjoong, still regretting as he is.

As the familiar song came on the radio, it was when Seonghwa had finally concluded that they are still hurting because there is something that needs to be fixed. And running away would not help him. So, if they would pretend to be together again like how they used to be four years ago, maybe they could reflect and see what was wrong. And he hoped they could before the next 00:00.

Hence, if Seonghwa would look at this differently, it does not seem so stupid at all.

“No, I’m okay with it. I don’t want to fuck up any more. I’ll be better. I promise,” Seonghwa says, raising his hand with determination.

Hongjoong scoffs. “That’s what you used to say about watching the sunrise together, too.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll be better.”

Hongjoong only nods after that and continues to finish his breakfast. Seonghwa decides to keep himself shut as he knows Hongjoong still holds a negative feeling against him. But he does not stop him anyway.

✧ 

It’s around 7 o’clock—or 8 o’clock. (Hongjoong thinks it’s around 7 o’clock. He doesn't really know. He doesn't really want to know) when he notices Seonghwa did not lie when he said he will be better.

Disappointed that it is too early for the interesting places to open, they decide to stroll around the park with the well-known river nearby in the end, hoping that the harsh sun would knock the both of them into wake. A part of Hongjoong regrets they have had to start it at exactly midnight when he himself did not have any sleep. Too exhausted; he feels like they have been dragging their limbs behind as they amble. But he believes this could be the last, so he does not want to waste any time.

Luckily, Seonghwa is trying to be better. He has been more indulged in conversing with him, asking whatever he can think of, while the other gladly responds. Through this way, it helps him forget his longing for slumber that constantly pulls him down.

Seonghwa has asked what Hongjoong has been doing a lot during his break and Hongjoong has gladly answered that he has been practicing a lot on art as he wants to improve at least a little before the next semester starts and that he has been attending music production classes with Jongho on Saturdays.

“As much as possible, I try to preoccupy myself,” Hongjoong adds when he finishes.

And when Hongjoong has asked Seonghwa the same question, Seonghwa replies with a grin: “Ever since I came back, I didn’t really do much, but to laze around. As much as possible, I try to enjoy the feeling of being with my bed while it is there.”

Hongjoong laughs, playfully hitting Seonghwa’s arm as he does. “Are you mocking me?”

“Are you mocking me?” he teases, a wide smile growing on his face as he slowly walks away from Hongjoong and nears the river; he already knows what is to come – another punch.

But Hongjoong manages to chase him until the both of them are meters close to the water. “Thanks for making my job so easy. I’ve always wanted to drown you there,” he chuckles, sending threatening looks on Seonghwa’s way with his chin hanging up.

“Hey, spare me!”

With a bigger smile and anticipating eyes, Seonghwa slowly pushes Hongjoong away, little by little until there is enough room for him to go. But Hongjoong still chases him, just casually walking while Seonghwa waddles backwards with anticipating hands raised before him.

“I was kidding! I was kidding,” Seonghwa repeatedly tries to persude him as he still tries to gets away from the younger.

“I know. I just want to play.”

And that becomes the cue for Seonghwa to stop. He stands still with his hands on his waist as he looks over Hongjoong who is coming for him with a wide grin on his face.

“I didn’t get much sleep,” Seonghwa points to his chest before he points to Hongjoong, “and you’re making me want to run.” He drops on his feet, finally giving up and sitting on the meadow with legs crossed.

Hongjoong sits next to him, the playful grin still playing by his lips. “And I didn’t sleep at all.”

In response, Seonghwa rolls his eyes. He lays back on the grass and shuts his eyes close. “Because you’ve drowned yourself in alcohol when you were supposed to be sleeping.”

“Says by the same guy who used to drink at midnight over four years ago,” Hongjoong scoffs as he lays his back as well. He did not really want to close his eyes as he was afraid he might fall asleep. But his eyes cannot take the harsh sunlight striking his face, so he does not have much choice. Eventually, he relaxes by Seonghwa’s side.

“Joong, you’ve said you’ve been practicing on art?” he asks after short silence. Hongjoong hums in response, too relaxed to say a word. “Can I see them?”

Hongjoong honestly feels confident with his skill and his pieces. He himself can see how much he has improved through the years. So, without hesitation, he shifts in his position to pull his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans. Then, he hands it to Seonghwa with his recent artwork on display.

“You do digital now?” Seonghwa questions, sliding his finger to the left to see more of his pieces, and sometimes going back to one photo again and again.

Hongjoong hums yes, nodding. “I managed to get myself a drawing tablet before I went to college.”

Seonghwa stays silent after that, even though Hongjoong is waiting for him to says something more, or at least react with a gasp. But the older keeps his mouth shut. When Hongjoong peeks his eyes open, Seonghwa simply blinks and looks, no hint of anything that Hongjoong is looking for.

But when he asks: “Can I comment?” Hongjoong begins to understand.

He thinks Seonghwa remembers how he hates when people share their opinions about an artwork or insults them and then sometimes claim it as constructive criticism. Maybe he remembers how he vented out to him after his art teacher criticized his artwork for his wrong use of colors and brush strokes. If he does, then Hongjoong is thankful.

“Sure.” He shrugs.

“Joong, you’ve really improved. This shows how much you’ve grown.”

Hongjoong simply smiles. Doesn’t know how to react. Doesn’t know what to say. But as his eyes are shut closed, feeling the warmth of the saturated light, he simply smiles as the other boy by his side scrolls through his phone for more pictures. He only peeks an eye open when Seonghwa blurts out something again.

“Oh! This one’s really cute.”

He moves his head close and narrows his eyes to focus, adjusting his sight from darkness to light. Then he sees it’s not any of his artwork, nor it is an artwork. And he realizes Seonghwa has already wandered off through his phone before he knew.

He gasps and snatches his phone back to himself. Immediately, he taps on the trash bin icon, deleting a picture of his face with no hesitation.

Seonfhwa starts to whine, stomping his heels on the ground in a rhythm. “Ah, why did you delete it? I have no back up.” He juts his lower lip out, maybe hoping that it would convince the other to recover the photo.

Hongjoong looks over to Seonghwa with a frown, brows meeting together. “You said you want to see my art! I didn’t allow you to see the other pictures!” he groans as he locks his phone and puts it back to the pocket of his jeans.

“It’s an art,” Seonghwa deadpans with a shrug.

And Hongjoong freezes (but hides it). He does not know if it is the heat from the sun or something else, but— shit, he can feel his whole damn face warm up.

It feels like 2013, when two innocent youngsters have discovered that they are not like everybody else, that they have a specific preference, and that they prefer each other; when 16-year-old Seonghwa confessed that to the other while squeezing his hands really tight and keeping his eyes shut because he was afraid his best friend would go and was afraid to see whatever truth that could be lying in the other’s eyes. But it was when 16-year-old Hongjoong did not leave and intertwined his hands with his. The truth Seonghwa wanted to see glimmers in the tears in his eyes. And he admitted that he likes him, too.

Lying down on the grass next to Seonghwa with the sun as the king above, the heat contrasted by the cool breeze coming from the river on the other side; he does not know how it brings him back to 2013. It was so far nor so close. But he thinks of that day anyway.

And he hates it.

Hongjoong gets up and slaps the other on the chest before he runs not too far. When Seonghwa sits back up with a frown on his face, he sees Hongjoong waiting for him.

“Wanna watch a movie at the cinemas?” Hongjoong invites not too loud nor too soft.

Seonghwa’s brows furrow, confused. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and clicks on it.

It’s 09:16. Goddammit. It’s 09:16 already.

✧ 

The mall opens at 10. When they arrive at the place, it is only 09:32. So, they decide to grab some snacks to gnaw on first while waiting by the entrance door.

Seonghwa insists they should watch the new Avengers movie as he has not watched it yet when he was in America. He says he was too busy preparing for the move. But Hongjoong has watched it already one time last week when he suddenly felt sad missing the other boy – who loves every Marvel movie dearly – only to come out of the theatre as one huge of a sobbing mess and loud. So he thinks it is a bad idea for Seonghwa. He loved Agent Romanoff so much Hongjoong’s heart starts to ache with that thought.

However, Seonghwa is persistent and Hongjoong can’t stop him.

“I want to heal from the angst Infinity War gave me. I need to watch this, Hongjoong.”

_Little does he know_ , Hongjoong thinks as he looks at him apologetically while queuing for the ticket booth.

It’s 13:22 when Hongjoong confirms it is, indeed, a bad idea.

They got out of the cinema 10 minutes ago and are now sitting in one of the booths in McDonald’s (because Seonghwa says this would make him happy. He was wrong). Sipping from his coke, he watches Seonghwa warily. Flustered. Bloodshot eyes. Flushed cheeks. And a cheeseburger stuffed in his mouth. _God,_ he is so sad to look at. Yet Hongjoong cannot stop himself from laughing.

“And I thought I was the worst audience,” Hongjoong giggles, shoulder shaking and eyes tearing up from laughing too much. He is damn sure he has been laughing for over an hour now. Even when they were still inside, just when the first beads of tears roll out of Seonghwa’s wide eyes, Hongjoong began to laugh hideously as he was trying to stifle himself from doing so. But when Seonghwa has gone louder, Hongjoong has lost it and he does until now.

“You are the worst friend,” Seonghwa says. He slams his hand on top of his many napkins and gets himself one to use to wipe his never-ending cries. “I thought—” there goes a sob, “it would help me—” and another one, “f-feel better about Infinity War. But it was worse.” He sniffs as he throws the crumpled napkin on the table and unwraps more of his burger with his other hand.

Hongjoong begins to giggle again, amused at how the older looks. It’s been so long since the last time he has seen Seonghwa cry like this. Maybe watching the End Game was not so bad of an idea at all. Of course, he would not admit that to Seonghwa unless he wants him to leave. But then again, Hongjoong wants him to stay.

“Hey, but at least Thanos is gone now, right?” he gives him a reassuring smile, hoping that would make him feel better at least, even though he knows to himself it won’t.

Seonghwa sobs, nodding. Hongjoong is surprised it might have really worked. “And so is Natasha, so is Tony.” Then he cries again and louder this time. Hongjoong has to put his hand over Seonghwa’s mouth to shush him and save the both of them from embarrassment. McDonald’s is very crowded at this hour and it is a good thing for the place but a bad for a crying Seonghwa.

Hongjoong has almost forgotten how challenging it was for him to give a warm comfort to a crying Seonghwa. Although it is, he does not stop from looking for ways to do so anyway, even if it takes him days of staying with him or nights of sleeping by his side.

“Ah, Hwa,” Hongjoong calls for the older’s attention again (who seems to be so indulged with crying more than remembering Hongjoong is there, too) when a random idea crosses his mind. “I know what can make you happy.”

Seonghwa finally looks up from his hands to Hongjoong, eyes and cheeks still puffy and Hongjoong, though inappropriately, still thinks they look so cute he would want to leave kisses on them. _God_ , if only he can.

“What? A funeral?” he jokes. Or maybe he doesn’t. Hongjoong doesn’t know, so he simply rolls his eyes.

“No, dumbass. Let’s go to Everland as promised. Besides, it’s not too far from where we are.” Hongjoong smiles suggestively while raising his brows repeatedly in the process.

Everland, of course, is Disneyland to the youngsters from Seoul, but the only thing hindering is the hour and a half trip from the city. But, as Seonghwa is 22 and with a car, nothing should be in between him and his promise with Hongjoong.

Everland is Disneyland, except for Seonghwa, who never really had and still never has the brave heart and guts to “waste his time on stupid stuff that scare you only for entertainment,” as he once said. But Hongjoong was 14 and was whining and begging, still bitter of the fact that he could not join the school trip. He understood that his parents could not come with him as a guardian for the trip as they had to leave on the exact day. But he did not catch why he had to have one when he was 14; besides, he got Seonghwa with him – he once argued in a defense.

But Seonghwa was 14 that time, too, and with no car at all, nor even allowed to drive one, nor at least have the money to take Hongjoong with him on a trip to that stupid park. He would do it for his once whiny best friend if only he could. But then again, he was simply 14 and knew nothing, except to come over at Hongjoong’s and promise him they would, one day, go to Everland.

Seonghwa does regret that promise now and he feels he will regret it even harder later.

✧ 

A once hour-and-a-half trip seems to extend longer due to traffic. It’s 15:47 and as Hongjoong is whining over the compressed and endless lines of smoke-belching vehicles, Seonghwa is a bit relieved they are stuck and passing time. He hopes Hongjoong would not want to go for the plan anymore when the sky meets dusk.

But then again, it’s Hongjoong he’s talking about. He gets everything he wants.

After an excruciating set of hours, it’s 16:07 when they step out of the car and onto the lot. Hongjoong yelps quietly as he jumps to Seonghwa’s side, feeling giddy as excitement rushes through his body. Seonghwa feels like 14 again.

The youth and excitement seem to be never-ending as shown in Hongjoong’s wide smile plastered on his face as he grabs Seonghwa by the wrist and yanks him around the theme park. The whole mood surrounding the younger boy like a halo seems to be the opposite for Seonghwa, whose face holds an uninterested frown. Yet he does not mind being pulled around. Hongjoong looks so happy anyway.

The scorching heat of the sun in mid-July is not even helping, making Seonghwa feel all sweaty and sticky under the same black shirt, silently reminding him that the last time he had taken a bath was an hour before Hongjoong called him through the phone. He is still thankful though, that there are not many people on a Thursday afternoon, or else he would rather die right there and then.

But even though there are only probably a hundred or more smiling faces in the park, cringing screams shoot out from all over the place. Seonghwa is surprised by this, gaping when an ear-deafening shriek from what he believes a woman rings through his ear. He then goes to look around and find where it is coming from, seemingly curious as to why in the world would a person scream that loud in a theme park. When his gaze falls on what seems to be a roller coaster, his jaw drops lower.

Sure, Seonghwa has definitely seen a roller coaster, but he has never seen this big of a roller coaster that seems like a long way trip to a death in hell. He would call it that while others call it T Express, which he doesn’t really care to know because he simply would not dare try.

As Seonghwa looks around, turns on his heels as he does, he notices there are a lot more of rides that can only make him gulp the lump away from his throat. The excited smile on Hongjoong’s face when he finally looks back to him scares the shit out of him more. He can only swear to himself; if only it were not for Kim Hongjoong, he would not and would never be in this place.

“Exciting, right?” Hongjoong squeals, bouncing on his feet, the smile never fading from his face.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Seonghwa scoffs. He tugs the neckline of his shirt away from his chest in hopes it would help him breathe. “These look like death to me.”

Hongjoong laughs at him, his shoulders shaking. He wraps his hand around his wrist again and pulls him to a stall by the side of the path which sells cute hats, like the green frog and the well-known rabbit hat. Seonghwa already knows why they are there.

“Don’t worry, Hwa. We won’t ride those scary rides,” Hongjoong smiles brightly at him as he picks up a rabbit hat and hands it to the other, who hideously sighs in relief from hearing those heaven-sent words. Seonghwa takes the hat from him and lousily places it atop his head. Then, Hongjoong goes and tugs the ends of it, securing it around the head before he squeezes one of the fluffy balls, making one of its ears flap up. He looks to Seonghwa, still with a smile now teasing painted across his face. “—Yet,” Hongjoong finally adds. He pats on Seonghwa’s chest before he goes to buy him his own green frog hat, leaving the other flushed and nervous.

Of fucking course. Seonghwa should have known. Hongjoong would surely want to try those nerve-wracking rides that, only by sight, can send Seonghwa off to his death. As much as he does not want to, he knows to himself there is no way he can escape this. He promised Hongjoon he would be better. He believes being with him in every ride along the way, smooth or rough, would prove that.

That includes wearing the rabbit hats that, Seonghwa thinks, is embarrassing for a 22-year-old man. That also includes riding the carousel, if that is what Hongjoong demanded for their first ride. The younger insists they should try out the “basic rides” first before getting on to the exciting ones, which, in Seonghwa’s language, his death.

✧ 

Is it 17:06? _God,_ Seonghwa feels too dizzy to read, but has to see the very time of his death.

They have just gotten off three or four extreme rides, one of which is the devil called T Express. While Hongjoong laughs and cheers loudly, Seonghwa writhes and nearly cries over the odd feeling in his stomach. He cannot even keep his eyes open. He shuts them tight with his hands balled in fists against his stomach while he is bending over the barriers. He is pleased Hongjoong does not notice this. He definitely does not want him to know.

But, when Hongjoong stops laughing and starts to ask: “Ohmygod, Seonghwa. Are you okay?” Seonghwa wants to be gone.

There goes all he has consumed for the day, leaving his stomach empty in pain.

Hongjoong groans as he rubs circles on Seonghwa’s back. “Ah, I should have not forced you here. Hold on.” He leaves for a while and goes somewhere Seonghwa is still too dizzy to see. But, he comes back moments after with a bottled water, which he offers him. The latter gladly takes it and washes his mouth, and if possible, he would wash all the embarrassment he feels. If even more possible, he would wash all of his very being. Seonghwa tries the impossible chances, and of course, predictably and completely fails. So, he sits on the ground, his back against the barriers. Hongjoong sits infront of him and looks at him with apologetic eyes.

“I’m sorry I pulled you into this.” Hongjoong juts his lower lip out. He reaches out his hand and runs his fingers through Seonghwa’s hair, sweeping them off his eyes.

Seonghwa coughs. “S’fine. I said I’d be better, didn’t I?” he pulls out a small smirk, still trying to make himself look okay and not sick at all.

Hongjoong slaps him by the cheeks playfully until the once smirk disappears into a pout. “You don’t have to try this hard.”

“It’s fine. I promise!” Seongghwa chuckles, slapping Hongjoong by the cheeks as well. “I had fun anyway.”

“Did you really? ‘Cause all I can remember clearly is you holding onto me very tight, your eyes closed, and screaming my name very loudly,” Hongjoong emphasizes every word, mocking Seonghwa.

But, what Hongjoong can only see on the older’s face is a playful smirk. “Hongjoong-ah, I think that’s a different memory.”

Hongjoong’s face reddens, embarrassed at his mind which is quick to remember that significant time. So, he stands up and leaves the older poor-looking boy on the ground.

“Kim Hongjoong! I’m kidding!” he hears Seonghwa shout in between laughs. But, he continues to walk farther and farther away until the memory flushes out of his damn mind. He doesn't even know how he manages to walk with his eyes half shut, only focused on his feet that panic as they drive him somewhere he is too occupied to know.

Hongjoong has never known it is damn awkward to talk about the sex life he used to have with someone he used to be inlove with, but now is only pretending to be the same. He has never known only because Seonghwa is indeed his first in everything. And that leaves a remarkable place in him – a familiar feeling of his touch still lurks in his skin. To think about it is already something that would drive him crazy and something he would rather avoid in public situations like this. To talk about it is another thing, especially with Park Seonghwa himself.

He only stops on his tracks when a hand falls on his shoulder, and with that, he already knows Seonghwa has caught up to him.

He turns around and sees a panting boy. “You walk too fast, do you know that?”

“I walked too fast for a reason.” Hongjoong rolls his eyes and turns his back on him again, leaving him with that baffling snicker coming from his mouth. His eyes then land and _twinkle_ on the big ferris wheel he sees ahead of them. That sight sparks another hint of childish enthusiasm in him as he taps on Seonghwa from behind. “Let’s go there next!” he nearly squeals, pointing to the ride Seonghwa would love to call his death ride.

“Ah,” he hears the other whine. “Are you fucking serious? You do know how much I hate heights,” Seonghwa complains, a frown on his face.

Hongjoong pivots to glance at his companion with eyes innocent and wide. “You did a pretty good job in T Express; this shouldn’t be bad, should it?”

And all Seonghwa can think about is how can he say no to those wide eyes?

It’s 17:48 when Seonghwa finds himself quite shaking as he sits in one of the cars of the ferris wheel with Hongjoong and his excited smile shining brightly across him. He could say his knees are feeling weak and the abrupt movement of the wheel aggravated it more. But, of course, he would not want to admit that in front of Hongjoong, whose eyes twinkle as they overlook the park that is now below them.

If it were horror movies for Hongjoong, it would be heights for Seonghwa. He would not dare go up through the clouds and look down to the earth below his feet. He could not simply gulp the fear away or shut his eyes off it because as long as his mind knows he is up above the clouds and is face to face with his greatest fear, it’s all over. He could pass out right there, right then.

But, this very hour is not like any other. As their car gradually moves up, Hongjoong’s smile grows wider and wider, brighter and brighter than the sun who is about to sink into the horizon. And Seonghwa, sitting across, hands gripped tight on each side, and eyes nowhere but on the brightest boy ahead of him; he begins to feel less and less scared.

“See? It’s not so scary, right?” Hongjoong turns his head to Seonghwa, smiling very adoringly at the latter, which is eventually and only returned in the end.

This very hour is not like any other. Maybe Hongjoong makes the difference.

“I’ve never asked - what do you plan to do?” Seonghwa starts, breaking the silence that fills the air. The question only leaves Hongjoong confused, tilting his head a little to the side in the process. So, he adds, “Now that you’ve graduated, too. What do you plan to do after?”

“Oh,” Hongjoong hums and smiles confidently - something Seonghwa doesn’t expect if he were to be honest. “I want to pursue being a digital artist or maybe even an animator. I’ve been getting money from doing little commissions for my friends lately. I thought that could be a practice.”

Seonghwa’s face brightens up with pride (or maybe it’s just the dazzling glow from the sunset). His lips tug up and up with every word that slips out of Hongjoong’s mouth.

The guy sitting before Seonghwa seems so different from the guy he held hands with four years ago. Sure, the blonde hair is a lot far different from the red, but there is much more than that. 

The Hongjoong with the unkempt red hair striking all over the place would never say that. He would never pursue being someone and that’s simply because he never had a dream. He’s the same in some aspects; both of them do art and the amazing ones, they do. But, four years ago, it was just a hobby. A pastime. Something his hand would do on the leaves of his notebooks instead of jotting down notes their history teacher wrote on the whiteboard. Something he would leave on Seonghwa’s hand and pretend it was a tattoo when they were bored and were pretending to be 21.

But, today, Hongjoong, with platinum blonde hair and in one of Seonghwa’s shirts; he decides to look at what he can do as more than just a hobby - a dream. A step to move forward. Something he would do to bring a smile up on someone’s face. Something he would do to make the world a better place.

And Seonghwa can only smile proudly at him as he sits there, listening, watching Hongjoong talk about his dearest love for art, how his eyes go wide and sparkle when doing so, and the sun meeting the horizon behind him. It’s such a beautiful sight.

“See? The sunset isn’t so bad at all,” is all Seonghwa has said after everything Hongjoong has told him. But, Hongjoong luckily doesn’t fret over his very far-from-the-topic response. He even looks over to his shoulder and then, watches the hues of pink and orange in the sky mesh together until they are one. It’s such a beautiful sight.

“You’re right,” Hongjoong replies, now turning his eyes back to him.

Seonghwa gives him a smile as warm as the afterglow. “I’m always rooting for you, Joong.”

Hongjoong pouts doubtfully at him, eyebrows raised. “Even when you were in New York?”

“Of course,” he chortles, “I always prayed to God every night to take care of you and guide you. And I think, seeing you now, He really did.”

The other can only roll his eyes, even though he can never hide the tint of pink creeping up to his cheeks. “You’re lying. You don’t believe in a god,” Hongjoong counters, as if he knows him so well and he really does.

“When I was far from you, I was worried. I thought I’d need something or someone to keep you safe while I couldn’t,” Seonghwa explains. He could see the smile painted across Hongjoong’s face getting bigger with every word uttered and he thinks there’s nothing else that could make his heart feel lighter than this.

Hongjoong laughs. “Thank you!” he yelps and in a very adorable manner, breaking the quite serious atmosphere filling in the car only to bring it back again. “I can’t believe you did all that while I was left here, basically resenting you for everything,” he sighs and hangs his head low. He looks back up to Seonghwa in a sliver of shame. “Sorry,” he apologizes in the tiniest way possible.

Seonghwa laughs at this, causing the other to laugh along. “You had your reasons, Joong. I blame myself, too.”

“No,” Hongjoong whines a little, “It’s not like everything is your fault. I had my part, too.”

“Did you understand why it happened?”

Hongjoong can only shake his head no, a small smile remaining still on his face. “For four years, I had been asking why, but I could only come up to the most obvious answer. I thought it was because you were far and so, it was already hard to work it out any longer.”

It’s Seonghwa’s turn to shake his head this time, disagreeing, with sad and shameful eyes. He doesn’t think he can ever forgive himself for leaving Hongjoong clueless for four years while keeping all the answers to himself. “I think it’s more than that.”

Seonghwa then finds himself remembering that one particular night from four years ago. That one time that he has sworn to himself he would bring it to his grave. 

He remembers it was Saturday morning for him. He was loaded with so much paperwork, but he decided that time to set aside all the reference books just so he could focus on the phone call he had received. It was, of course, from no one else but Hongjoong, who _demanded_ to have a proper talk with him. Seonghwa could only sigh and say “sure,” but it was that time he was beginning to regret doing so.

“ _We hardly talk anymore, Hwa. I get that you’re busy, but I really hope you can make at least a little time for me._ ”

Seonghwa had thought it was so fucking childish. So inconsiderate. So insensitive. He must have thought of it as every bad thing in the world. But, he only shut them out. He could only pinch the bridge of his nose as he shut his eyes close. “We’re talking now,” he said in a low tone.

“ _Yeah, but it doesn’t feel like we are. It’s always like this._ ”

He was sure he had heard his voice break when he said that. He was sure he had a feeling Hongjoong was on the verge of crying. Yet he remembered so well he had thought he was such a fucking crybaby. But, still, he tried, _tried_ his best so hard to keep his mouth shut.

“Joong, I’m a busy and sleepless college student timezones far from you.”

Seonghwa was slurring all his words if he could remember it so vividly well, yet he had also hoped Hongjoong would finally understand and would finally let go of his grip that felt as if it was choking the air out of him. Seonghwa felt he was chained despite being half a world away. He frustratingly hated that.

“ _I get that._ ”

“No, you don’t.”

And Seonghwa could remember himself snapping.

“And you could never understand unless you’re a student from my university and you have a boyfriend whose morning is your night and does nothing but to whine about how he misses you instead of being the supportive boyfriend that motivates you when you need it.”

He could also remember the sound of Hongjoong scoffing through the call before he asked in a high pitched tone: “ _I’m sorry? Am I doing something wrong?_ ”

“Yes! Absolutely fucking yes!” Seonghwa remembered shouting over the call, “I want to talk to you, to know how you’ve been, but all you fucking do is say how much you miss me and how much you want me back home. But, I can’t, Hongjoong. I fucking can’t. I have dreams. I have plans for my future unlike you who’s still stuck in your romantic fairy tales. Isn’t it time to grow up?”

“ _Wow,_ ” Hongjoong scoffed again, “ _Okay, Seonghwa. Congratulations on having dreams and for having plans for your fucking future. Congratulations that you have finally grown up. Congratulations that you are not me. I’m sorry I’m not like you. I’m not smart like you that can pass a university abroad. I’m sorry that I can never be anyone else, but a helpless child._ ”

And Seonghwa could remember those words very well - how they sounded through his ears, how they struck him, how they woke him up from all the frustrations and from all the words he had let go despite trying so hard to keep them in. 

“Look, Joong. I’m sorry. But, I really want to achieve what I want for myself. And if you hinder me from doing so, I’m so sorry, but I have to leave. I’ve been thinking about it ac-”

But, he had already opened the box he fought hard to keep it locked. It was all too late. He realized that when Hongjoong cut him off, ending the call before he could even finish his words.

It was all too late, anyway. It ended before he even did.

Or maybe the Seonghwa from four years ago - that was what he just thought because he would never expect himself getting another call from the same boy four years after, asking him to pick him up from the usual underground bar in Seoul.

Nor could he ever expect both of them to start again (at least temporarily) at 00:00. Nor could he ever expect to see both of them in the same car of the ferris wheel, laughing at each other as they both head back down to the missed earth.

Seonghwa thinks it’s past 18:00 when they decide to head back to the car in the parking lot. After remembering that one particular night that Seonghwa has sworn to bring it with him to his grave, they find both of them simply laughing it away in the end, as if it was nothing anymore - just one of the millions of memories from the past. Seonghwa finds this comforting, though, that what was once they have spent nights crying over is now something they look back to and laugh at.

“I wanted us to move forward together, but you were out there.” Seonghwa playfully rolls his eyes at Hongjoong, who, is weak from laughing, rests his back against the car.

“God. I was so embarrassing.” Hongjoong only keeps on laughing until tears fill the brim of his eyes.

“But, hey. You shouldn’t be embarrassed of something from the past if that was what made who you are today, right?” Seonghwa reassures. He partly believes he says that only to reassure himself, too, and help him finally admit one of his biggest regrets to himself.

Hongjoong nods and rubs the tear away from his eye with his forefinger. He sighs satisfyingly before he starts again, “The me today - is he okay?” he asks.

Seonghwa chuckles. “You didn’t really change a lot. You still do things without thinking them through.”

Hongjoong jokingly frowns at this while Seonghwa laughs at him.

As Seonghwa sits in the driver’s seat, his hands on the wheel, he turns his head to Hongjoong with a satisfied smile. He thinks about how funnily impulsive this guy can be, thinks about how his impulsiveness can as well be annoying. 

But, it’s 18:23 and Seonghwa is ironically grateful that Hongjoong doesn’t think through things, because if it were not from him, everything from 18 hours ago up to now and beyond would not and never happen.

“You’re okay yourself, anyway. More than fine. You’re Kim Hongjoong,” Seonghwa later adds.

Just as when Hongjoong is about to ask what he means by that, Seonghwa’s phone starts to buzz. They pause for a while, surprised and feeling a little odd. It’s the first time for the day someone has contacted them. Hearing it ring seems a little strange and funny the both of them laugh again. Hongjoong demands (and in between laughing, he does) Seonghwa should pick it up, so he does. He pulls the phone out of his pocket and sees a friendly name on the screen. Thus, he doesn’t hesitate to respond, bringing the phone to his ears.

“Yeosang? Why, what’s up?”

“Yeosang?” Hongjoong mouths, eyes wide in curiosity. Seonghwa only waves him off with his hand as he does his best to get his attention fixed on the call.

“ _Hyung! Come out here to Berlin. My treat,_ ” he hears his high school friend say through the phone. He can also hear faint laughter from the background and a screaming that he can reckon so well it’s Wooyoung.

Seonghwa laughs. “Berlin again?” He looks over to Hongjoong, who only rolls his eyes at the name of the bar. “What’s the occasion?”

“ _We graduated, hyung!_ ” A different voice shouts on the phone and Seonghwa is sure that it is Yunho. He can tell by the loud giggles that follow after.

“Yeah, I know. Like weeks ago,” Seonghwa chuckles.

“ _Late graduation party!_ ” Yunho yelps. “ _Come, hyung! Please, please? We miss you!_ ”

Seonghwa grumbles a little, “I’ll think about it. Hold on.” He brings the phone down to his lap and looks over to Hongjoong, who, all this time, has only been looking at him, anticipating. “Should we go and meet them?” he asks.

Hongjoong shrugs, fingers fiddling with the seatbelt. “It wouldn’t hurt to go, right?”

Smirking, Seonghwa brings the phone back up to his ear and says, “Fine. We’re going. Give me more or less an hour.”

✧ 

Due to the infuriating heavy traffic, it’s already 20:12 when both of them arrive in Berlin, back in the same underground bar where they were over 20 hours ago. Along the way, Seonghwa must have grumbled at least a little over 10 times, if Hongjoong counted it right. He was seemingly feeling so impatient, slamming his hand on the wheel, making it honk as if that would make the vehicles before them move. Hongjoong has tried to calm him down, of course. He has done his best to assure him they would get there in time. But, all Seonghwa has said, “We’re wasting our fucking time.”

Hongjoong has kept quiet after that because he does agree, but maybe in a different way. He sees the two hours stuck in traffic as a waste of time from their last twenty-four hours. But, he couldn’t do anything about it, anyway. He has simply stayed seated there on the shotgun, mouth shut, eyes fixed on the blinking minutes on the digital clock above the radio. He has simply watched every minute come and go while trying to find comfort in the reality that would hit him once it hits back to 00:00.

But, whatever he does, he can never find that comfort he can only feel when he has Seonghwa by his side. He can never do especially that he knows, after this day ends, he would be gone and he would be left alone again, like he has always been.

Sure, Hongjoong has his friends. But, what else can he do when he and Seonghwa himself are in only one friend circle, literally existing among a group of eight people? Even when Seonghwa would not be around (because sometimes he would not go knowing Hongjoong would still and still be hurt), it’s completely impossible for one of them not to mention his name, especially that they are a very loud group of eight people, sometimes forgetting to filter their words. Hongjoong wishes they aren’t, though, because the sound of his name can still cut deep into his pre existing wound. That’s how sensitive he still is, even after all these four years.

Tonight, though, feels like years ago. There are all eight of them, finally together once again in one place. No avoidance, no filtering. Everything _feels_ okay, as if everything is back to normal.

Except that, at 20:14, while Seonghwa and Hongjoong stand by the end of the table, their six other friends give them strange looks - the wide eyes, gaping mouths, and all. Hongjoong thinks there would be no filtering of words for the night, no _anti-Seonghwa talks_ or _anti-Hongjoong topics_ , but he can clearly see how they try not to look so surprised at all, how they try not to question whatever is happening, whoever are the people standing by the end of the table, how they try their best to think that _this_ is completely normal. No break-up happened. No crying. No nothing.

_God._ Hongjoong loves his friends.

“It was just last night-” Mingi cuts himself off, bringing a hand over his own mouth.

Hongjoong really loves his friends, but maybe except for Mingi.

“Are you back together?” Wooyoung starts, as if Mingi speaking up serves as a push for him to finally ask the question he has been holding in the very moment he sees his two friends stand in proximity to each other.

Maybe Hongjoong doesn’t love them at all. (It’s a joke, though. He knows that to himself.)

He simply wishes they would go back to what they have been doing minutes ago, to when they were being pretentious, when they were thinking that no break-up happened, no crying Hongjoong occurred, because seeing those strange looks and hearing those words from them remind him of his greatest fear - of Seonghwa leaving him and disregarding his existence for four years - and of his stupidest shenanigan - of him doing his best to convince Seonghwa that it is okay to pretend they are together once again, but within only the limit of 24 hours. That’s so stupid. So _fucking_ stupid of him to color his monotonous reality with fake and lying crayons.

Hongjoong only laughs it off, but internally, he is actually preparing himself to look like no one but their idiotic friend with the painful words about to slip out of his lips. “We-”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa, though, cuts him off, “We are.”

While their six other friends sing what sounds like a victory song while raising their glasses of beer above their heads, Hongjoong looks to Seonghwa, wide-eyed and confused, and maybe grateful, too. 

“Tell us how it happened! All the deets!” San taps on the table excitedly as his eyes twinkle while looking at who seemingly supposed to be boyfriends again.

Hongjoong chuckles, starting. “Well, I was drunk last night and called him to pick me up right from this same place.”

“And we talked,” Seonghwa adds, careful not to cut the other off, “Came into good terms and realized that-” he shrugs as he places a hand on the other’s waist, making the younger slightly shiver from the sudden touch that maybe he has missed so much “-we still do.”

Their other friends coo, except for Mingi, though. Of course, he wouldn’t believe it especially that he has witnessed the aforementioned night.

“Yeah! And we bought cute hats,” Hongjoong continues and then, mentally slaps himself after realizing that is such an unnecessary information to share.

Seonghwa tries not to laugh hard at this, though, so he joins. “We actually just came back from the amusement park. That’s why we’re late. Sorry.”

Mingi raises an eyebrow at them, not joining the other friends who are looking at them all lovey-dovey. “All in one day?” he questions and it is very apparent in his tone.

Turning his head to Hongjoong, Seonghwa smiles sweetly (or maybe Hongjoong just thinks he does). “We’ve pretty much done a lot of things in the past couple hours.” 

And Hongjoong can only smile back at him. That’s all he can do at least for now.

They sit then together by the end of the table and wait (and laugh at) for their friends to finish their victory song. Jongho stands up from his seat, a glass of beer raised in his hand, as he says, “To my hyung’s graduation and to _my_ graduation next year.”

“And,” San enthusiastically adds, joining the younger in standing up and raising a glass, “To Seongjoong’s come back.”

The eight of them all laugh at the name, which is a terribly awful joke invented by Choi San himself when they were 17, and is now brought back to the table now that they’re 22. 

It feels nice, though. Hongjoong feels at home sitting at one table with seven other people that gathered on one lucky night when they were all in high school. No one would have expected they would always have each other’s back even until college, and even until now that they have all (well, except for Jongho) graduated. This sight - of his friends in shades of red from the alcohol and of Seonghwa looking admiringly at each one of them - reminds him so much of 2015. It feels like _home._ And Hongjoong doesn’t think there is no other place he would rather be.

He wishes it would always be like this. _Always._ Even after the clock strikes 00:00.

They spend another half an hour talking and laughing, catching up to each other’s lives, and mostly listening to Seonghwa’s stories from New York. In between those stories would be full laughter, a very harmonious music to Hongjoong’s ears. He can’t remember the last time it has been like this - when all eight of them have gathered around a table with glasses of beer in their hands, laughing together until tears fall from their eyes.

Maybe, somehow, Hongjoong is starting to believe that things do really happen for a reason. He is beginning to be thankful for being the stupidest and most stubborn person alive - for doing everything he could to have Seonghwa pretend to be his once again in under 24 hours. Maybe, somehow, he thinks that if it were not for that, the night would not fall like this.

In the middle of Seonghwa’s another story, Hongjoong excuses himself to the bathroom to fix himself. He has been awake since last night and has never had a look at himself this whole time. He would not be surprised if he sees himself in such a great mess.

He’s right, though. He can confirm it as he stands in front of the mirror in the bathroom. His platinum blonde hair is striking all over the place. Dark circles are all around his eyes from the smudged make-up. Seonghwa’s gray shirt is loosely hanging over his shoulders. Hongjoong can only laugh at himself; he can’t believe he has been looking like this all this time while with Seonghwa.

So, he switches the faucet on and splashes his face with water, again and again until he feels a little more refreshed.

When Hongjoong stands straight back up, he flinches and lets out a small yelp. He has nearly died seeing Yunho through the mirror, standing next to him with the biggest smile on his face. He eventually bursts into laughter while the older frowns at him. Hongjoong almost forgets that this kid loves pulling fatal pranks.

“You almost killed me!” Hongjoong yelps, turning to his tall friend to slap him by the arm.

“You’re just overreacting,” Yunho giggles, hugging himself to protect him from more upcoming smacks. “So, hyung,” he then starts after a short while, elongating the sound of o. And Hongjoong already knows what’s next. “It’s odd that you’re back together all of a sudden,” Yunho finally says while checking himself out in the mirror, fixing his blue hair and his neon green shirt over his shoulders before he looks to the older again.

Hongjoong can only softly chuckle, though. Internally, he is debating whether to explain the whole situation to the younger, which may not be so bad at all, if he would think about it. Yunho is his friend, anyways, and has always been since 2013. Hongjoong can trust his whole life on him if he had to.

“Well,” he starts, scrunching his nose, “Not really.”

Yunho then raises his brows in shock. “What do you mean?”

What follows the question, of course, is Hongjoong looking like Yunho’s idiotic friend while telling him about last night and about how he thinks this particular night would end with him and Seonghwa leaving in opposite ways, going back to how it has always been. And what Hongjoong doesn’t expect is stifled chuckles coming from Yunho’s lips. 

Well, Yunho can always see the good in everything, anyways.

“So, in short, you’re doing this in hopes you would end up being together.”

And Yunho can always see through his best friend.

“I don’t know! I was drunk!” Hongjoong throws a hand over his face and drags it down - it’s something his hand itches to do since the last 00:00. “When I sobered up, I was severely embarrassed of myself. Dear _god,_ I badly was that I wished we would stop. But, he said to just keep it going,” he adds as he jumps over the sink and sits on it.

Yunho looks at him questioningly, a teasing smile apparent in his lips. “Did you really wish it would stop?” he asks.

Hongjoong slouches his back as he pouts a little. “I was happy, of course, but we all know it’s temporary. I think I made him uncomfy, too, and I hated that. So, I did wish it would stop.”

The other friend sighs and stretches out his hand for his friend to hold, for a comforting touch. “I don’t know if the best would come out of this, but I do hope the best for you. You know I always do,” Yunho gives him a cheering, positively bright smile, a spark of hope that Hongjoong can grab on for the night, so at least, somehow he can think that he will be okay even after the day ends. “Just know you can call me whenever, okay?”

Hongjoong nods and smiles sweetly at him. “Thank you.”

“We should head back now, though,” Yunho suggests as he pulls Hongjoong off the sink, “We don’t want your _boyfriend_ thinking suspiciously of us,” he adds in a very annoyingly sarcastic tone. Hongjoong grunts and playfully kicks him in the shin before they finally head out of the bathroom.

Hongjoong rejoins the table while Yeosang is telling the group about what seems to be every effort he had done for this girl from his Mathematics class only to be said no to multiple times. He wishes he'd heard the story from the very beginning, though, and he wishes he would hear the ending of it, but as soon as he hears Seonghwa’s voice through his ears, he knows he can’t anymore.

“Hey, boyfriend,” Seonghwa whispers to his ear. The sound of the pet name makes Hongjoong shiver, even though this is something he should already be used to hearing. It’s what Seonghwa always calls him anyway. But, it would always feel new to him, especially tonight, when it’s the first time he has heard it again after all these years. “Should we head home now? I’m feeling a little tired.”

Hongjoong looks to him, but Seonghwa doesn’t move back. The proximity can’t seem to fret him. “Home? But, I don’t want to, yet,” he whines a little in low volume.

“Anywhere with beds. I need a bed,” Seonghwa says as he blinks sleepily and Hongjoong begins to understand why. Both of them have been fully awake for over 20 hours. Going from one place to another and then, to another, of course, would be another thing they have spent their last few drops of energy on. And knowing how Seonghwa is such a homebody, Hongjoong gets why he would need a bed right at that moment.

Hongjoong chuckles sweetly at him. “There should be a motel nearby, right?”

Seonghwa only looks to Hongjoong for a while, blinks yet another sleepily, before his lips twitch and he begins to chew a little on his lower lip. Then, he nods once. He stands up and Hongjoong does, too, grabbing their other friends’ attention and causing a pause in Yeosang’s sad love story.

“I think we better get going now before I pass out here,” Seonghwa jokes. Their friends laugh, but also bid their goodbyes eventually. Yunho reminds Hongjoong to call him with a small hand gesture and the latter gives him a thumbs-up before both of them head out of the place and back into the car.

Just another time for them to go to another place where they can spend the last few hours left as together while time ticks away in a terrifyingly fast rhythm.

It’s past 21:00 when Hongjoong stands by the lobby of a motel they have already been to when they were foolish but younger. A lot of things around the place have already been changed since then. What were once pink cardboards spelling its name “Heavenly” are now in neon lights and in cursive, hanging from the now existing welcoming arch that stood before the parking lot. What was once a bad combination of baby pink and an unpleasant hue of green is now pinks and blues. By the side of the lot, Hongjoong can see a pool of water, glowing amidst the night - all thanks to the LED lights by the edge of every tile. 

The place looks unfamiliarly different that Seonghwa has almost missed it while they were on the road. When they see the familiar lady by the lobby, they almost can’t believe that it’s the same motel after all.

It’s that same motel they went to when they were 17, when they thought escapism was the answer to everything, and when they thought grazing fingers across each other’s skin was the meaning of the love they have been sharing. 

They are now 22, exhausted from all the tomfooleries they have been displaying for the last 21 hours, and only waiting for the room key to be handed to them across the counter, silently thinking to themselves that this may be the same place after all, but maybe, _just maybe_ this night would hold something else for them.

As soon as the key is indeed handed to them, Seonghwa grabs it off the counter and leaves with lips pursed in a line. Hongjoong follows him to room 505 and silently chuckles when they’ve walked past 103, a very vivid memory flashing in his mind.

Hongjoong is the first to open the door for the both of them and the first thing he sees is the TV, which is never there before, and a looking-more-luxurious bathroom by the corner. He makes sure he is the first to shout, “Bathroom - me first!” But, Seonghwa, too, shouts it at the same time as he did. Hongjoong grunts and crosses his arms across his chest after he shuts the door close.

“Wouldn’t be a problem if we take a bath together,” Seonghwa jokes. Or maybe not. Hongjoong isn’t so sure. But, he is so sure of himself when he throws a pillow at the other right on his face.

“And because of that, you’re punished with being the second in line to take a bath.” While standing on the bed, Hongjoong points his forefinger to Seonghwa as he watches him fluff the pillow he has just thrown him. The latter only rolls his eyes at him and waves him off, gesturing him to go before he plops down on the bed and hums to the sheets. Hongjoong then yelps a little “Yay” before he jumps off and runs to the bathroom.

✧ 

“God, this is so boring,” Hongjoong grouses. He clicks on the TV remote for the millionth time that night before he throws it off to bed, settling for the music channel playing what seems to be an indie music video by a band named Hippocampus, if Hongjoong reads it right.

Both of them have already taken their _personal times_ (as Hongjoong has called it when Seonghwa was knocking on the door, shouting at him, “You’ve been there for how many minutes. Be quick or I’m coming in.” to which he replied, “This is my personal time. Go away.”) in the bathroom and are now wearing different Seonghwa’s shirts from the trunk. Hongjoong sits on the bed in an oversized white shirt he has randomly picked, back resting on a stack of pillows. Seonghwa quietly sits next to him, endlessly scrolling through his phone, looking through whatever - it’s Pinterest maybe, Hongjoong thinks; he’s always there.

Hongjoong whines again, feet kicking through the sheets. This successfully grabs the older’s attention, finally. He sets his phone down and crosses his arms across his chest, looking quite sternly at him.

“What do you want to do?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” Hongjoong shrugs, a frown on his face. There is not a single time in the last 22 hours when they did absolutely nothing that now that they are _just_ sitting, Hongjoong feels so uncomfortable on the bed, as if he itches to do something. Anything. “What do you want to do?” He returns the question like a boomerang.

Seonghwa, too, returns the shrug instead. “I’m up for anything you want.”

Hongjoong groans, his head falling backwards and sinking into the pillows. But, he doesn’t give up. Not just yet. He sits straight back up and shifts on his position, so he is now sitting cross-legged in front of the other, who is still looking at him in a questioning manner.

“Okay. What would you do if the world ends in-” Hongjoong pauses to check on the non existent watch around his wrist. He only ends up rolling his eyes and waves his hands off “-in a few hours?” he continues, glancing back.

Seonghwa hums, thinking while his fingers rub small circles across his chin. He watches Hongjoong look at him with those huge and curious eyes, which seem to be glowing under the pale orange lighting of the room. He watches how he has his hands balled into fists, placed in the middle of his thighs as he waits patiently for his response. And he simply watches him, thinking what would he do if the world ends in a few hours? Or rather-

_What would he do if he only has few hours left before Hongjoong slips again away from the tips of his fingers?_

Seonghwa thinks hard, eyes narrowing, teeth sinking deep into his lower lip and practically chewing on it. He thinks _very_ hard, again and again, only to come back to the same answer all over again.

_He would kiss him. Passionately, he would. He would kiss him until he forgets the ticking time. He would kiss him like his every life bets on it._

So, that’s what he did. It’s the same answer he gets every time, anyway.

He crawls closer to Hongjoong, propping himself up with his fists while he is on his knees. Then, he kisses him for a bit, their lips meeting for a while only for Seonghwa to slip back to his original position, head resting on the headboard, leaving Hongjoong in utter shock and _greed._

Hongjoong has his eyes wide, mouth parted a little, as he brings his fingers up to hover above his lips, slightly touching them while wondering if _that_ was real, if Seonghwa has really kissed him.

It shouldn’t be a surprise to him. It never should. Seonghwa has always kissed him when they were together and the older even admits he _loves_ kissing him. Hongjoong should be used to the feeling of his lips against his and the warmth of his hands around his neck by now, but tonight, he is caught in a surprise. A huge part of it is because it has been so long since he has felt it. He has always been longing for _that_ touch; always that now feels so fucking surreal.

  
  


”Well,” Hongjoong finds himself out of words, “That was the best apocalypse.”

  
  


Seonghwa snickers at him, his chin hanging up and eyelids half open as he looks down to the surprised boy. “Yeah. Wanna end the world again?”

  
  


Hongjoong almost forgets how fucking good Seonghwa is with his words and how they can drive him oh so crazy, hallucinate him, until he finds himself complying. And it is true. So fucking true because what follows after those words is Hongjoong crawling his way to Seonghwa until his legs are on either side of his, his hands through his dark hair, and his lips nowhere but on Seonghwa’s and only there.

  
  


And they kiss rather fervently, rushed but passionately. It’s not because of the ticking time; it doesn’t scare nor pressure them in any way anymore. But, it’s because they have each other _now_. After all these years, they have each other once again within each other’s arms. They can feel each other again through the tips of their fingers hungrily grazing on the skin underneath a shared shirt and running through the dark hair until it’s nothing but a mess. It’s almost like they’re worshipping each and every freckle of both bodies, reminiscing how every bit of it feels under every touch. They no longer want to waste anymore time; everything is supposed to happen _now._

Hongjoong moans against the kiss with the thought of that and with Seonghwa running his hands along the curve of his body up and down until his stomach is bare for him to see. He feels he can’t hold himself back any longer; everything that is happening now is too much for him to take. So, he shifts his hips, causing Seonghwa to groan. And he feels so fucking successful, plastering a smirk in his lips.

Seonghwa, though, moves from his lips, to the corner of his mouth, to his jaw, and then, finally landing on his neck. He kisses them oh so softly at first as he takes in the sweet cinnamon scent he must have missed so much. When Hongjoong shifts his hips forward again, practically grinding on him through the thin fabric of his boxers, Seonghwa hisses and bites on the soft skin as his arms wrap around Hongjoong’s torso, holding him closer than he has always been to him. 

“What do you want to do?” Seonghwa asks through gritted teeth, his hot breath fanning over sensitive skin.

Hongjoong shuts his eyes close, hands around Seonghwa’s neck. “What time is it now?” he asks instead, suddenly mindful of the time. As much as he wants to do this, he would not want to break his promise with Seonghwa. It always should have been only under 24 hours anyway.

But, Hongjoong feels Seonghwa scoff on his neck before he hears him say against his skin, “I don’t know. I don’t care.”

✧ 

Seonghwa jolts awake, panting as he abruptly sits up on the bed, naked under the white sheets.

His eyes scan the motel room, hurriedly searching for anything that can tell him the time. He ends up panickedly grabbing his phone from the bedside table and shaking, he clicks on it.

_Fuck._ It’s 23:52.

He fell asleep and he shouldn’t have. Even when it was an exhaustingly good sex, where they both took their time in making each other feel good under every touch and with every push and every moan of every name, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep after that.

It’s a huge waste of time. They only have eight minutes left and Hongjoong is still sound asleep next to him without knowing that he might wake up to another day when everything is back to normal, when he is left alone on one side of the bed again, waiting for another sunrise to come. And Seonghwa - he has not said every word he wants to tell him yet when he has _so much_ to say, but can’t always bring himself to. They only have eight minutes left; how is he ever going to tell him within that limit?

So, he shakes Hongjoong awake, again and again until he’s sober.

“Joong, please. Please, wake up right now. Please. We only have a few minutes left,” Seonghwa practically begs and with the last words, Hongjoong jolts awake as well, abruptly sitting straight back up as he grabs his phone and checks. And they really do only have a few minutes left.

Hongjoong slouches and only sighs into a satisfied yet sad smile. It’s as if he’s giving up; there’s not much time left anyway. “It’s okay,” he tells Seonghwa, even though it’s almost like he is reassuring himself, “It’s okay,” he repeats.

Seonghwa shakes his head and grabs the smaller boy by the shoulders. His hands drag across his arms and down to his hands so he can hold the both of them tight, in hopes that it would make him feel that he has truly loved him. He really has.

And he still does. And he will always do.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” is all Seonghwa manages to say out of time pressure, even though it’s not what he wants to say. There is something more than an apology. There is always something more than the tears falling from his eyes as he grabs a hold of the smaller hand, pressing his cheeks against it. And Hongjoong can feel every drop of warm tear through his fingers. “I’m sorry. I really fucked up. I’m so, so sorry, Hongjoong. I really am.”

Hongjoong shakes his head and he later finds himself crying, too, tears falling freely and endlessly from his eyes and down to his cheeks. But, he tries his best to keep a smile as he says, “Hwa, it’s okay. It’s really okay,” he keeps on saying as he wipes every tear away from the older’s cheek, “It feels nice to be with you again. You would always feel like home to me.”

Seonghwa presses his cheek harder to Hongjoong’s hand, feeling its warmth for the last minute and hoping he could keep this feeling forever with him. He wishes he could keep Hongjoong forever with him.

“I really, really, fucking really loved you, Hongjoong. I did,” Seonghwa confesses, eyes fixed on Hongjoong as he thinks maybe he wouldn’t miss him so much after this day if he stares at him longer. So, he keeps his gaze on no one else, but him and only him, even when it hurts to see those tears rolling down his cheeks, even when it hurts to know that how Hongjoong looks at him now might not be the same anymore once the sun rises.

Hongjoong places a thumb over his lips, shushing him. “Baby, it’s okay. You don’t have to say it.”

Seonghwa shakes his head. “No. I really loved you. Please. I really did.”

When Seonghwa thinks it would not hurt to try to be together again with Hongjoong for only 24 hours, when he thinks he might grab this as a chance to fix the both of them and heal and move forward but in different ways, and when those thoughts convince him that this whole thing is okay, he has never seen any of this coming. He never has had a vision of him, holding Hongjoong’s hands really tight, and really close to his face so he won’t let go. He has never had a vision of the two of them with tear-stained cheeks on a motel bed. He has also never expected this pain to come - this burning point in his chest that grows bigger and bigger and sinks deeper and deeper with every word coming from both lips and with every tear rolling down Hongjoong’s cheeks.

He would wish he should have seen this coming and would tell himself, “I told you so.” But then again, this - and all of this - is a beautiful pain from love that has always been blossoming across his chest and it is something he would want to feel again and again.

“And I still do, Hongjoong. I still fucking do,” Seonghwa adds against his thumb, eyes now shut close.

“What?” he hears Hongjoong ask, voice shaking and breaking.

“I still love you.”

Seonghwa has said everything he wants to say in just four words. That’s all it would take.

Silence follows after that. Seonghwa doesn’t understand why, but it feels like the afterglow, right after the very moment the sun has set, when the sky is so full of colors, and this time, they are true and not with fake and lying crayons. Everything else is silent. There is nothing and no one else, but Hongjoong in Seonghwa’s sight, glowing under the orange light. It feels like the afterglow. It would always feel like the afterglow.

“Hwa, it’s 00:01,” is what Hongjoong replies, voice breaking. Inside him, he wishes the words that came from Seonghwa’s mouth is true, that it’s not just under the influence of pretending to be together for 24 hours.

But, Seonghwa wishes Hongjoong would understand that it is _true._ It will always do even after all these years, even within these 24 hours, and even after that.

“I don’t care. I still love you.”

It’s 00:02 when Seonghwa says that, when Hongjoong is convinced that it is now true. His monotonous reality now filled with the colors of the afterglow.

Hongjoong breaks into a smile. Tears still fall from his eyes, but they now sparkle in vivid happiness. It’s such a beautiful sight that Seonghwa has to take in before it’s gone and before Hongjoong practically throws himself off to Seonghwa, wrapping his arms around his neck and pushing him backwards until his back rests on the bed, Hongjoong on top of him.

“What a great way to end the world.”

It’s 00:03 and they begin again.

But, this time, it is true.

Or maybe, this time, they both know and are aware that _it is_ true.

✧ 

Hongjoong flutters his eyes open. The blinding light coming through the windows and a soft pair of lips against his forehead wake him from a sound sleep. He sees Seonghwa above his head, eyelids half open as he looks down to him with a sweet smile. Hongjoong thinks he has been awake, maybe only waiting for the right time to wake him up.

“It’s sunrise,” Seonghwa’s groggy voice says.

“Really?” Hongjoong blinks an eye as he stretches his arms out. Then, he places his chin on top of Seonghwa’s shoulder to look through the window, the latter’s arms now wrapping his arms around his torso, holding him close to him one more time. “Watch it with me,” he suggests as he taps on his back lightly.

Both of them then sit up next to each other on the bed, white sheets over their shoulders and their thighs, practically covering their naked bodies underneath. Hongjoong rests his head on Seonghwa’s shoulder and basks in his presence; his now colored reality still won’t sink in, but he only sighs satisfyingly and breaks into a smile that seems to never fade away.

It’s 5:05. The sun is rising above the horizon, welcoming another day, the orange meeting with the blue, and its light falling softly on the couple. It embraces them in colors, surrounds them like a halo. Both of them smile under the warmth of the sun and the comfort it gives and the comfort each of them gives after a rather cold night.

It’s 5:06 and they are finally watching the sunrise together.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing this since July 2019, tbh. (It was originally for another ship. So, if you see other names, look away MWA) I'm so happy I got the time (and braincells) to finish it now.
> 
> _links u may ignore...unless?:[moodboard](https://twitter.com/hwacafes/status/1233749770008657920) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/aurorahs) | [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/orbyts)_


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